A Remembrance

Being Five Years Old

One Sunday, after church, I went to sleep in a drowsy sunspot on the rug in my parents' bedroom.

I flattened myself close to the floor - since the warmth hovered only a few inches above it - and looked sideways at the kitten that joined me in the light. Her white fuzz was blindingly over-exposed against the carpet's dark arabesques.

Down the hall (very far away), my brother practiced Fur Elise on the piano: stopping, starting, stopping, starting again.

At a certain point, as I fell asleep, the orange light that shone through my eyelids must have blinked out. Hard to say when.

Later, I tried to describe to my family the dream I'd had: There was a girl and on her head were stacked the following items: a cup and saucer, a grey dove, some pots and pans, and a loaf of bread.